A Battle Too Big
by Livi-Lu
Summary: Martha Jones, the girl who walked the Earth. Jack Harkness, the man who endured. These are the human heroes of that Year That Never Was we know about. But what of the others? As Earth fell to its knees, where were our Mightiest Heroes? Warnings: major character deaths, torture, possible allusions to noncon, and Jack Harkness (who needs a warning category all his own)
1. Captain America

AN: In my headcanon, the Sycorax invaded after the Chitauri and all other Doctor Who events were similarly pushed forward. If this bothers you, just pretend this is a parallel universe or an alternate reality or whatever floats you boat. Basically I've just used this as an excuse to whump the Avengers without _actually _killing them as well as explore what went on outside the Valiant during the Year That Never Was.

* * *

Steve Rogers was touring the Grand Canyon on the day the Toclafane descended. It was a pity, really, that Captain America was so technologically inept. For on that day, the fragile little piece glass Stark had called a phone may have saved his life.

The call for the Avengers to assemble had come a day prior, when Britain's new PM had announced the eminent arrival of an extraterrestrial species. SHIELD hadn't trusted the man when he claimed they were friendly and was on high alert. They needed their Captain.

But their Captain, still spellbound by the majestic sites of land that he loved, had forgotten to plug the important little device into the wall. The phone was dead and so was Steve Rogers.

There were twenty people, including Steve himself, at the famous glass overlook when the gleeful little spheres appeared. They didn't surprise him at first. As he gazed into the ravine that seemed to him to be as old as time itself, the metallic objects were of little concern. Probably just another modern marvel he hadn't yet been introduced to.

The handful of families, with their bored teenagers tapping away on little devices, and screaming babes who had no idea what they were seeing, and daredevil young children hanging on the railings and giving parents heart attacks didn't really register the danger either. Not until it was too late.

It was the laughs they heard first. The shrill, manic, _wrong _laughs. It wasn't until the first baseball capped dad, with his Kodak camera and pockets full of Made in China knickknacks, was neatly sliced in half that the danger registered for any of those unfortunate vacationers.

Cap immediately reached for his shield and service revolver. By the time the Vibranium weapon had disabled two of those devilish little creatures that were the ultimate future of the human race, only nine of the group still stood.

The soldier, in full combat mode, tried to take charge of the situation. As security guards from the main Visitor's Center ran out, Steve gathered up a now orphaned child and began to herd the other survivors back to relative safety.

It was immediately apparent that the center was designed to be aesthetically appealing to the paying tourists rather than a safe harbor for terrorist? alien? attacks. He ushered them and the workers down to the basement and told them to wait.

And wait they did. For two days. Until, tired, hungry, and filthy, they finally wandered out.

It was a little boy who recognized him. Even in his jeans and leather bomber jacket, now shredded and soaked in blood, even with his vibrant blue eyes, blank and unseeing and his iconic shield long since lost, the little boy recognized Captain America. And somehow, those survivors knew that it wasn't just a good man that a fallen that day, but also the red, white, and blue flag that he had so fiercely protected. The U.S. had lost this war they didn't even know existed. The world would soon follow.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

AN: Cap's not my favorite superhero. I like what he stands for and consider myself quite patriotic, but he's just never appealed to me. I've seen his movie, _The Avengers_, and read Avengers comics with him in it, but I've never actually read any of his stand alone arcs. I feel kinda bad killing him so early in the game, but I feel like he wouldn't be able to just stand by and watch 10% of humanity die without jumping into the fray prematurely. And even Captain America couldn't beat 6,000,000,000 Toclafane with his shield.

IDK how often I'll update this. I have it planned out but I have no clue how fast it'll get written. Let me know if I've made any canonical errors aside from the timeline and please point out any and all grammatical errors.


	2. Hawkeye

AN: Two in one day! I rock!

Disclaimer: Forgot this on the first chapter, but really, does anyone ACTUALLY think I'm Stan Lee or Steven Moffat or Russell T. Davies or anyone else involved in either franchise? Cuz I'm not.

* * *

SHIELD had been monitoring the man who called himself Harold Saxon for months. Colonel Nicholas Fury had heard about the up-and-coming politician quite by chance and whole set up had struck the grizzled Director as wrong.

UNIT seemed to be quite enthralled with the charismatic Saxon, and the UK media was hanging on his every word. He was being compared to the likes of Churchill and Thatcher. But to Fury, he was trouble.

And when trouble reared its head, Fury called in his best.

Special Agent Clint "Hawkeye" Barton, had had his gun trained on this guy's smarmy head weeks before the Master first made his presence known. Most of SHIELD's analysts had thought their boss had finally lost his mind. What harm could the Colonel see in this passionate young politician? Agent Barton, however, believed Fury was dead on in his assessment.

If pressed, neither man would have been able to give a definitive reason for their unease about soon-to-be PM Saxon. Barton might have eventually managed to say it was his eyes. Old eyes. Power hungry eyes. Eyes the likes of which the ex-marine had only ever seen on one other person. Eyes like the ones that still haunted his dreams.

Getting a job as a bodyguard was relatively easy. Natasha was the spy, but Barton had done plenty of undercover in his day. He easily affected a cockney accent that would mark as blue collar Londoner. His cover story, ID, and references were impeccable. SHIELD engineered attacks on Saxon before his protection was turned over to the UK version of the Secret Service and Barton quickly made himself indispensable, ensuring he got to stay on even after the elections.

He should have been a commended background piece. Never given a second thought save for safety measures. And yet, sometimes, the archer could feel Saxon's gaze on him and Barton was convinced that this man knew his true identity. What shook Barton even more, though, was his amusement. This man knew who he was and thought his presence was funny. Barton wondered just what this guy was truly capable of.

When the announcement of contact with the Toclafane was announced, Fury told him to be prepared to kill the PM that was quickly unveiling himself as a madman. Barton waited for his order, but it never came. Contact with SHIELD's helicarrier was cut off shortly before the assassination of the President.

Barton could have save the leader of the free world. He didn't. He had been instructed not to blow his cover for anything without a direct order from Fury himself. It would be three weeks before the Avenger learned for certain that that order would never come. SHIELD was gone. UNIT was under Saxon's control. The world had its Master.

Barton bided his time. He was a sniper and patience was essential in his profession. After three weeks of the Master's rule, though, after three weeks of death, destruction, and terror, Barton had to act. He waited until Saxon (never Master, not in his own head) asked him to accompany him into the bowels of the airship where the enigma that was Jack Harkness was being kept.

Barton stood by and watched as the captive man was killed again and again only to be dragged back into life with a pained gasp and nothing but more torture awaiting him. Harkness mouthed off more than usual. Barton met the other man's eyes once and an unspoken plan formed between them. After and especially crude remark about other uses for the piece of wire Saxon intended to strangle the Captain with, Barton made his move.

He drew his gun, and fired straight into Saxon's back. An infinite second passed before Barton realized that Saxon wasn't bleeding. The bullets had been fake. Very good fakes to have fooled him, Barton thought, before Saxon grinned and true terror flooded the SHIELD agent's system.

* * *

His death was not quick, but it wasn't as slow as it might have been. The torture was actually pretty standard fare, especially compared to some of the inventive ways Harkness had died. It was as if the Saxon wasn't really in the mood for pain and terror but it was simply expected of him.

There were no cameras, as there had been for other would be assassins, just a group of the men he served with. Saxon called them down to the steam room and had them replace Harkness with him. The rest of his life was a painful affair of knives, whips, vicious punches, but nothing really imaginative.

Towards the end, Saxon made the others join in. Barton watched as his comrades, possibly even a few he would call friend, aided this monster in killing him. None of them even hesitated. They knew that to refuse would sign their own death warrants, and most likely that of their families.

The last thing Clint Francis Barton saw was the somber face of Jack Harkness. His last coherent thought was not of his childhood, or his fiery lover, or even the team that might one day have been his family. His last thought was that he and Jack would have been friends.

* * *

AN: Not quite sure how I feel about this one. Feedback would be appreciated!


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